Maslo

by Asako Yuzuki, Jana Seichertová (Translator)

Japonský bestseller inšpirovaný skutočným príbehom sériovej vrahyne

Len dve veci neznesiem – feministky a margarín

Gurmánska kuchárka Manako Kadžiová sedí vo vyšetrovacej väzbe. Je obvinená zo sériových vrážd osamelých podnikateľov, ktorých údajne zviedla svojimi domácimi jedlami. Prípad uchváti celú krajinu, ale Kadžiová odmieta hovoriť s médiami a neprijíma nijaké návštevy. Keď jej však novinárka Rika Mačidová napíše list, v ktorom ju požiada o recept na hovädzí guláš, Kadžiová neodolá a odpovie jej.
Rika je jediná žena v redakcii novín, pre ktoré píše. Každý deň pracuje dlho do noci a doma si väčšinou varí iba ramen. Jej stretnutia s odmeranou Kadžiovou vo väznici pripomínajú skôr kurz varenia pre pokročilých než interview. Rika dúfa, že rozhovory o receptoch jej pomôžu Kadžiovú obmäkčiť, ale časom si uvedomí, že v skutočnosti sa mení ona sama. S každým jedlom, ktoré ochutná, sa v nej niečo prebudí. Možno má s Kadžiovou spoločné viac, než si pôvodne myslela.

Román Maslo, inšpirovaný skutočným prípadom odsúdenej podvodníčky a sériovej vrahyne, je živou a znepokojujúcou sondou do mizogýnie, posadnutosti, romantiky a hriešnych pôžitkov z jedla v súčasnom Japonsku.

Genres: Fiction, Book Club, Japan, Thriller, Mystery, Audiobook, Contemporary

464 pages, Hardcover

First published April 21, 2017

About the author

Asako Yuzuki (柚木 麻子, Yuzuki Asako) is a Japanese writer. She won the All Yomimono Prize for New Writers and the Yamamoto Shūgorō Prize. Asako has been nominated multiple times for the Naoki Prize, and her novels have been adapted for television, radio, and film.

Reviews

[Hannah Greendale (Hello, Bookworm) · Rating 3 out of 5]

"She recalled that milk came from blood. The same must then be true of butter. She licked the blood on the scab again. It tasted of metal and sweat."*

Hear me out... Butter is Julie & Julia if Julia Child were a serial killer and Julie's feelings for the skilled cook transgressed beyond admiration, with a pinch of murder and a generous serving of feminism.

What I thought this book would be: A startling thriller in which a female serial killer whips up delicious gourmet meals and serves them to her unsuspecting victims while a journalist writing about the mounting murders starts piecing clues together to crack the case and find the killer.

What this book actually is: Something else entirely . . .

Butter is based on a true story and opens with serial killer Manako Kajii (also known in real life as the Konkatsu Killer) already in prison, where she refuses to speak to any interviewers, especially women. Journalist Rika Machida is keen to interview Kajii and manages to connect with the imprisoned woman by exploiting her interest in food (i.e., asking for a recipe).

According to the media, the most surprising thing about Kajii's case was not how she used dating sites and exquisite food to lure would-be husbands before (allegedly) murdering them, it was that Kajii "was neither young nor beautiful"* and was considered overweight. The media questioned: Why would a man, no matter how lonely he was, find her desirable?

Gaining weight and observing how society treats women who have gained weight is central to Rika's journey toward self-acceptance (note: this could be triggering for some readers). Meanwhile, her interactions with Kajii center on exploring food and discussing feminism.

The story follows journalist Rika (not Kajii) as she learns to cook and gains weight, wrestles with being comfortable in her new body, navigates patriarchal views of women's roles and bodies, researches Kajii's history, strives for autonomy, and ultimately discovers how she wishes to exist as a woman.

At its heart, this is a story about hunger: for food, for connection, for sensuality, for friendship, for knowledge, for independence, and for acceptance. It's also a story of opposites with Kajii and Rika holding diametric opinions toward women and feminism.

There's little in the way of violence or gore in this book. Instead, it offers an abundance of sumptuous descriptions of food: textures, aromas, flavors, sensations, etc.

I think a more apt title for the book would have been, Butter: A Novel of Food and Feminism. It may not be as catchy or have sold as many copies, but it more accurately represents what this book offers.

--

Many thanks to Ecco for sending me an advanced reading copy. Butter publishes April 16, 2024.

*Note: Quotes taken from an advanced reading copy and are subject to change by the final printing.

--

This book sounds wild! About a woman who lures lonely businessmen with her gourmet cooking then murders them and the journalist intent on cracking the case. And it's BASED ON A TRUE STORY? 😳 I need to read this.

[emma · Rating 1 out of 5]

where my kerrygold stans at?

(can you tell i'm procrastinating writing my deeply negative review of this.)

i don't think my expectations were very high. all i wanted was interesting. it could've been slow. it could've been false advertising. it could've been character-driven, or plot-less, or even on occasion boring. but this was too far.

this is not a simple, subtle book about food and feminism and society. it's a tell-y-not-show-y over the top too-long diatribe in which nothing happens.

there's a difference, and this could have been half the length (if i'm being generous).

here are a few suggestions of what we could have removed to get there:
- the business history of fictional food brands
- 3-4 named characters with personalities and backstory who served no purpose
- two or three dozen check-ins on our protagonist's weight
- some truly unforgettable figurative language, such as the darkness of a turkey cavity compared to unfathomable eyes or applying a butter-based marinade being similar to a romantic massage
- the word "sticky"
- A COMPLETELY UNACTED UPON HOMOEROTIC SUBPLOT THAT FOR A TIME WAS SINGLE-HANDEDLY ALLOWING ME TO GO ON.

this is one of those books that makes me wish i DNFed. it was a painful slog to get through each and every one of these overwritten, under-significant pages. not a single one of the thoughts conveyed about gender, food, or Society is original or even interesting, and yet we are forced to hear them expressed verbatim again and again.

it felt like it moved in fits and starts. there's some level to which this book attempts to show a manipulated protagonist, but the transition into and out of it is not smooth.

it is, in short, not good.

bottom line: not even food descriptions — one of literature's greatest assets — could save this book.

[luce (cry bebè's back from hiatus) · Rating 2 out of 5]

i was excepting something with a bit more bite...

The audiobook edition of Butter spans over 17 hours, yet its narrative could have been condensed into a fraction of that time. The story feels weighed down by excessive filler content, and while its intended themes hold potential they are belabored to the point of being ham-fisted. The characters, particularly the protagonist Rika and her friend Reiko, are often made to behave moronically for seemingly no reason other than to create conflict, but these misunderstandings and instances of idiocy diminished the coherence of the narrative.

The novel revolves around Rika Machida, a journalist in her 30s with a very poor work/life balance. Seeking a hit story, Rika reaches out to Manako Kajii who is currently serving time in the Tokyo Detention Centre after being convicted of the serial murders of businessmen she allegedly lured with her cooking skills. Kaji refuses to see her until Rika, at the suggestion of her friend Reiko, takes a different approach. Rather than asking Kaji about the murders, she asks for her beef stew recipe.
As they interact, their exchanges focus more on food and Kaji’s ideas of ‘etiquette’ than murder, prompting not only a personal introspection for Rika but a culinary awakening. Rika’s newfound appetite results in her gaining weight, and we see how that affects the way she is seen by the people in her life. Her boyfriend, who is just as work-oriented as she is, critiques her for it, seeing it as a sign of her ‘letting herself go’, and believes that women should be especially careful of their appearance. Rika’s closest friend, Reiko, also, despite once being outspoken on matters of sexism, expresses ‘concern’ over Rika’s weight, but her remarks may have to do less with Rika’s body than Reiko feeling jealous of Rika’s fixation with Kaji. Inspired by true events, Asako Yuzuki's Butter explores themes of misogyny, obsession, beauty standards and culinary pleasures in contemporary Japan.

The cover and blurb for Butter are somewhat misleading, as the novel proves to be less unsettling than they suggest. While the book does feature vivid sensory descriptions, particularly regarding food—its preparation, aroma, and taste—Yuzuki’s storytelling relied too much on repetitive depictions of glistening lips and sweaty bodies to elicit discomfort. There was an intensity ascribed to these descriptions that made many scenes feel unintentionally over the top (i was reminded of the business card scene from American Psycho…but in Butter these instances lack the former’s self-awareness and are delivered seemingly with seriousness).
Butter aligns more closely with contemporary social critiques like Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, Diary of a Void, Breast & Eggs, Boy Parts, Ripe, The Glow, and Natural Beauty, books that explore themes of women challenging or questioning gender norms and navigating misogyny and beauty standards within various societal contexts.

Throughout Butter, every scene appears to reinforce these thematic points. It delves into the double standards around aging and the pressures faced by women to conform to traditional gender roles, especially within cultures with more conservative values. The novel extensively interrogates ideas surrounding femininity and the expectations placed upon women, particularly the impossible standards of the 'ideal' Japanese woman. While I appreciate narratives featuring diverse portrayals of female characters and exploring complex female friendships, Butter falls short in this regard.

Rika, the protagonist, comes across as painfully uninteresting and exists seemingly only to convey certain messages. Her experiences, such as gaining weight and rejecting societal pressures regarding relationships, feel didactic rather than authentic. Despite Yuzuki’s attempts to depict complexity and contradiction in her female characters, their behaviors often feel contrived and surface-level, emerging only to serve the narrative's thematic agenda. I wouldn't have minded as much if said themes had been explored in-depth, but I found the story's treatment and portrayal of misogyny somewhat superficial. There are several scenes in which Rika reflects on societal expectations regarding women's appearance and behavior (and comes to the conclusion that no, women should not have live their lives in accordance with what men find sexually attractive) and that show her professional integrity being questioned by a male colleague (who assumes that she couldn't possibly have a male friend and that she is exploiting said man to gain information for scoops). And the novel also touches upon the cultural expectations placed on married women to prioritize their husband's well-being, including taking care of household chores and cooking for him.. But I just wanted more, especially given the novel's 'run-time'. But Yuzuki never delves into the more insidious aspects of sexism and misogyny. If anything, I found her takes somewhat naive. For instance, portraying a woman who emerges unscathed after spending time with a dubious man who is certainly a creep and could have also been involved in a murder. The lack of consequences felt overly idealistic to me.

The supposed tension between Rika and Kaji, the central dynamic of the novel, lacked oomph. Kaji's influence on others, including Rika, feels unconvincing given her grating demeanor and, for all her portending to be an expert in culinary matters, her ‘hot takes’ weren’t all that hot. While Rika eventually sees through Kaji's facade, her prolonged influence on Rika's perspective on food and possibly life seems disproportionate to her actual impact. Kaji's character, at first presented in an enigmatic manner akin to Hannibal Lecter had neither the charisma nor depth necessary to maintain my interest.

If Butter had delved deeper into Rika’s experiences at her workplace and prioritized the development of her friendship with Reiko, perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so exasperated at this story. I found the narrative to be full of unnecessary dramatic moments (including Reiko impulsively playing detective to prove…something? What was going through her head? And then what…she just gives up like that?, Reiko is traumatized by her parents' open relationship and by the fact that her husband, like her father, also finds physical intimacy between spouses wrong—using her father’s words almost verbatim—Rika’s own trauma around her father’s death and cooking, the whole stuffed turkey thing at the end).
Several plot points are introduced that seem promising enough but ultimately lead nowhere. The characterization of Kaji remains shallow, failing to evolve beyond her initial portrayal, making me wonder to what extent Rika truly understood her ‘twisted’ psyche. The novel’s conclusion was jarringly cheesy, as Rika and the people around her advocate for self-acceptance (a trite "found family" trope is shoehorned for good measure), which felt contrived and lacking in depth.

Rika's inadequacies as a journalist are... noticeable. She’s a shit journalist. She claims to want to write an article on Kaji but her tactics to get Kaji to open up are incoherent (she does what Kaji wants her to do, but then asks very stupid questions or makes tone-deaf remarks—she tactlessly complains about her weight gain—that are bound to alienate someone as demanding and misanthropic as Kaji). Also, why didn’t it occur to Rika, like it did for Reiko, to find the man Kaji was staying with prior to her arrest?
The exploration of Kaji's family and past feels cursory, presenting a cliched portrait of a Daddy’s Girl without offering meaningful insight.

The narrative dangles several intriguing threads—such as the implication of a character's predatory tendencies and Kaji's alleged crimes—yet Yuzuki fails to follow these up satisfactorily. Despite being referred to as a serial killer, Kaji's actions and motivations receive only a surface-level examination and consequently Rika's view of Kaji is rather simplistic and her newfound understanding of her feels unearned (Kaji’s vices are emphasized throughout the narrative—her body too is described in a way that left much to be desired as if to emphasize just how ‘uncontrollable’ and defiant to norms she is— but then at the end we are meant to find her pathetic and kind of a victim—of her internalized misogyny, of the public’s gaze, of her need for male validation). Kaji's real life counterpart was also convicted on murder charges despite the lack of evidence, and Japan does have an incredibly high conviction rate...so why did not have Rika question whether Kaji deserved to be convicted? Or seen and spoken of a serial killer...? Kaji is antisocial, narcissistic, callous, manipulative and she doesn't seem to feel any remorse over the fact that she targeted/defrauded men…but then again their relationship seemed to me very much transactional…so why does Rika so readily accepts that Kaji is this 'serial killer'?

Overall, Butter fell short of delivering the darker, psychologically gripping narrative I had hoped for. Rika's journey towards uncovering the ‘truth’ feels aimless, and the murder aspect of the story is glossed over in favor of these overly dramatic moments that fail to provide a meaningful exploration of the novel’s thematic elements. I had expected the novel to explore Rika's (supposed) 'corruption', but it never happened (unless you count gaining weight and learning to love food again as 'bad'). As a result, her own anxiety and Reiko's concern about her growing too close to Kaji seemed somewhat uncalled for. Like, chill. Not like Kaji is urging Rika to kill men. To give the author the benefit of the doubt, one could argue that she deliberately crafted a narrative of smoke and mirrors, teasing depths and thrills without fully delivering on them.

I just was hoping for something darker, something more on the lines of a psychological cat-and-mouse game. Maybe on the lines of The Silence of the Lambs, or something in the realms of Barbara Vine or even My Sister, the Serial Killer. And, sure, maybe I thought that this book would deal with, shall we say, more monstrous appetites (i do love a cannibal story).

Was this novel terrible? No. Was it frustrating? Sure. But, as I said before, it was so annoying as to be almost amusing. The type of book that makes you want to rant to someone about how unbelievably stupid the characters are or how ridiculous the story is.

I wanted to genuinely like this novel as I am fond of the woman-being-weird-about-another-woman subgenre, but Butter missed the mark. Yuzuki's attempt to balance seriousness, realism, and drama didn't quite coalesce into something cohesive, resulting in a narrative that tone-wise felt very uneven. Even her exploration of misogyny, though earnest, lacked depth and wasn't all that thought-provoking. There seemed to be potential in delving deeper into Reiko's experiences as a stay-at-home wife, but her perspective only receives brief attention towards the end of the novel. Similarly, the portrayal of Rika's challenges in a male-dominated industry could have been more compelling, especially considering the doubts cast upon her professional abilities (then again she is a shite journalist so...).

I've read plenty of books that tackle the themes this novel sets out but fails to explore them deeply. And if I were to view it as a slice-of-life narrative about the experiences of women in the workplace, in marriage, and so on, Butter wasn't as compelling as most female-centered dramas out there.

If this novel is on your radar, I recommend you check out more positive reviews or give it a try. Who knows, you might find something in it that resonates with you in a way that it didn't for me.

Also, credit goes to the narrator of the audiobook, Hanako Footman. I really enjoyed her performance and I doubt I would have managed to finish this book if not for her narration.

[Liong · Rating 4 out of 5]

A book with a cover as inviting as butter – rich yellow and beautifully designed – how could I resist? 🧈🧈🧈🧈

We always choose butter but not margarine to cook.

Asking a woman who loves to cook for a recipe is to strike them in their weakest, most unprotected spot.

I baked butter cakes using this recipe from my auntie. It's a French 'four quarter' pound cake, made with equal parts egg, flour, butter, and granulated sugar (150 grams each).

A journalist (Rika Machida), interviews a food-loving serial killer (Manako Kajii), but the focus is on recipes, not crimes, blurring the lines between them.

This book is really well-written, but it is quite lengthy.

If you have the time to dedicate to a long read, I highly recommend it.

[Ri ♡ · Rating 1 out of 5]

The last chapter was her just cooking a turkey.

[Bruna · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is not a terrible book, and there is certainly an audience for it that might appreciate it much more than I did. The problem is that this is not what it is sold as. There really is no thriller or mystery element. It is just a very long book about the societal pressures Japanese people face and, in a way, how to overcome them.

The 'murderer' is not even a murderer. And no matter what her sentence in the book or what the MC says, she is not responsible for anyone's death. If she is a murderer, so is everyone who has ended a relationship that isn't working anymore. And the fact that the main character decides she is guilty even after knowing the truth (that she didn't push, drown, or poison anyone), she simply dated men who couldn't freaking function by themselves and went off the rails once she stopped mommying them. It is especially idiotic coming from the MC, who has managed to overcome the guilt of causing her father's death by not being by his side after he divorced her mom.


If the book had been sold for what it is, about characters struggling to fit in, public shaming, saving face, loneliness, shame, etc.—then that's fair enough, but they are marketing it as something that it isn't. So, it was a complete slog for me and I really would not have even picked it up if they had been honest about what the book is really about.

[Iris · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF. You know when you look up a recipe online and sometimes there is a little bit of text in front that you always skip to read? That was this book. It's just boring long descriptions of food preparation with no plot. Too bad cause the cover looks amazing.

[Hannah · Rating 3 out of 5]

I can understand why this book is currently being talked about by Japanese feminists. A lot of important things are discussed. I enjoyed the question of whether men’s domestic dependency on women could drive them to death. However, given the book’s greatest achievement for me was making my mouth water for buttery foods, I cannot give this more than three stars.

Actually, it did also surprise me in one way. When I was a child and my family was poor, my dad also used to mix rice with soy sauce and butter (well, it was some butter-like spread - probably margarine, which would appall Kaji 😫). I always thought it was something we did just because we were so poor. Now I wonder if my dad was more gourmet than any of us realized 😂😂😂

Update a couple months later: Missing my dad a lot this week. This week is the anniversary week that he died/was killed. So I'm eating rice with butter and chopped chili and Maggi seasoning to remember him. We'd be laughing together about what a silly snack this is, and we'd love every bite together. Not exactly a Michelin star meal, but sure is good for my soul. My dad was a man of many contradictions, and food was a big part of that.

[Meike · Rating 3 out of 5]

English: Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder
Female Japanese writers have lately been killing it on the international literary market, and rightly so: I love the brutal, disturbing, evocative feminist social commentary of authors like Sayaka Murata or Mieko Kawakami. Asako Yuzuki has delivered a huge bestseller with "Butter", but beware: While Murata sends blood-related lovers to a remote hut where they eat each other to make a point, the super-subversive gesture in Yuzuki's novel is that a woman puts lots of butter on rice. Yes: This is a book that will offend no one, disturb no one, and confuse no one. It's a very tame, very easy to understand novel, which doesn't mean that it isn't fun to read - readers just have to be aware that this is entertainment literature.

Our protagonist Rika is a 30-something magazine employee who wants to interview a woman who is accused of murdering three men after first having seduced them with her delicious cooking. Rika manages to meet Kajii and falls under her spell; she gets manipulated by the deeply disturbed woman and starts eating, you know, lots of butter. Topics that arise are misogyny (especially in the workplace and relating to female body images), pleasure, and, most importantly: loneliness. The men Kajii seduced were lonely, Rika's male friends and colleagues grapple with alienation, and so do, to a degree, the women we meet, from Rika who mainly lives for her thankless job, her friend Reiko who tries to conform to the traditional image of a wife, and Kajii who declares to idealize traditional female roles, but turns out to be unable to build any real relationships that go beyond the strict rules of convention.

For what it is, the novel is too long, and the culinary delights (a stand-in for pleasure in life or sometimes, more directly, sex) and their descriptions take lots of space, which will certainly appeal to the foodies out there (personally though, I love Japanese food, and I found many of the butter orgies to be culinary crimes - who drowns their tasty ramen and rice in butter? Yikes.). And of course, the whole butter metaphor is undercomplex, and so is the book. The final scene is basically Bridget Jones's Diary-level feminist commentary.

For a 400-page-book, this reads extremely fast, which also has to do with the stellar translation done by the wonderful Ursula Gräfe. Still, this novel is not an example of why Japanese female literature is currently so highly regarded in international literary circles, it's just too tame, on-the-nose, and simplistic - but nonetheless, pretty fun to read.

[Zoë · Rating 4 out of 5]

moral of the story is female friendship is so important bc without it you turn into a murderer

[Connor Kapala · Rating 1 out of 5]

I would rather be beaten with a sock of butter than read another page of this snooze fest.

[Paul Bryant]

So you ditched another immensely popular book again? What’s your excuse this time? Why did you even get a copy in the first place?

Well… it was a rush of blood to the head. A moment of madness. I was in Waterstones and there was this table and it said

It is our great pleasure to reveal Butter by Asako Yuzuki and translated by Polly Barton as the Waterstones Book of the Year 2024

So I said to myself – bravely, boldly, almost impertinently – heck, life is short, I will read Waterstone’s Book of the Year. They must know what they are about. Look, they built this magnificent palace of books, five floors of it! That was back in 2024, which as you know, was last year.

Well – how far did you get and why did you ditch it? Explain yourself, you serial ditcher of beloved books. We have been watching you.

It was because of this.

Example the first.

Rika rinsed her mouth and washed her hands at the bathroom sink, then wiped off her hands on one of the numerous fluffy hand-towels that lay piled in a basket. Catching the delicate fragrance of fabric softener on the towels, Rika resolved to ask Reiko what brand she used.

Example the second.

Under her ditsy-print skirt, she wore navy leggings and woollen leg warmers, presumably to protect herself from the cold.

Example the third.

Ryosuke had been a quarterback in the American Football team at college, and was exceptionally well-built. His most distinctive features were his eyes, which were always scrunched up into an amiable smile, and his rosy cheeks, like those of a small child.

This seems to have been written either by a fourteen year old or for a fourteen year old. Would you resolve to ask your friend the brand of her fabric softener? Me, I would not. Do we need to presume that leg warmers are to protect your legs from the cold? I would have said that was common knowledge. That’s what they are for. And the scrunched up eyes and rosy cheeks made my eyes roll so hard they didn’t stop rolling for a few hours.

So I concluded that this book is for the nearly one million people who have bought a copy but not for me.

Better stick to your William Faulkner and Marilyn Robinson then.

I don’t like Marilyn Robinson either.

🙄…… No further questions.

[Baba · Rating 4 out of 5]

Although inspired by the real case of the convicted con woman and serial killer, "The Konkatsu Killer", it is the writing, plotting and characters of Asako Yuzuki that takes this book to another level. The sole woman in her news office, Rika Machida, becomes the first journo to get gourmet cook and convicted serial killer of lonely older men, Manako Kajii (a woman detested as much for not being conventionally pretty and slim, as for her serial killing) communicating by solely writing and talking about her cooking. As Rika pursues each recipe and complimentary steers from Kajii, she begins to change as her palate is opened to the the tastes of real butter and succulent foods.

A startlingly innovative look at misogyny, obsession, romance and above all the "transgressive pleasures of food in Japan." There's something almost hypnotically beautiful about great Japanese writing and this book has it in droves. Another one of those sparse reality works where the sole focus is on the cast and little attention is paid to the background environment, noise or people. And the biggest character is the food/recipes Kajii gets Rika cooking starting with butter in food recipes. Beyond doubt the most tasty, mouth watering renditions of food appreciation I have ever come across in any medium!

The book blurb talks of this read being unsettling and it truly is, I found myself sympathising, or possible feeling something even more for Kajii the convicted killer, as Asako subtly not only makes the case for Kajii being the serial killer seem not beyond reasonable doubt, but through the interactions with Rika, she illustrates the rabid interest and even more rabid analysis and hate that is given to female killers compared to non-female ones. So why just Four Stars, and not Five?; I am afraid I found the book too long, and the plot moved too slowly despite the innovation, it did drag on foe me; a judgment call that needed to be made by the editors maybe? So this buttery read was a Four Star, 8 out of 12 for me.

2025 read

[Sujoya - theoverbookedbibliophile · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5⭐️

I found the premise of Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder by Asako Yuzuki (translated by Polly Barton) to be truly intriguing. The plot revolves around Rika Machida, a thirty-three-year-old journalist who pursues a story on the suspected serial killer, Manako Kajii who enticed men she met on dating sites with her lavish cooking and extracted huge sums of money from them. After three of her suitors were found dead under mysterious circumstances, the now thirty-five-year-old Kajii was found guilty and is currently awaiting her second trial after appeal while being held in a detention facility. Initially reluctant to talk to Rika, she agrees to meet her after Rika expresses her interest in Kajii’s cooking. Though Kajii refuses to talk about the case, she is more than eager to share her views on food (butter being an integral ingredient in her recipes) and as the narrative progresses, we follow how Rika’s approach to life, her worldview, and of course, her relationship with food changes and beliefs about body image change as she is drawn into Kajii’s world.

Inspired by true events (the 2012 case of the 'Konkatsu Killer' Kanae Kijima), this is a slow-moving lengthy character-driven novel that touches upon themes of friendship, food and culture, family, misogyny, societal expectations, feminism, body image and self-acceptance.
The story primarily revolves around how Rika’s life is impacted as a result of her association with Kajii and her obsession with Kajii as a person which often derails her from her investigative intentions before she begins to see Kajii for exactly who she is. Kajii is an interesting character- straightforward, unapologetic and shrewdly manipulative. All the characters are well thought out and the descriptions of the food and Kajii’s recipes make for interesting reading. I particularly enjoyed how the author incorporates folklore into the narrative and found how the parallels between the same and the events in the novel are drawn fascinating.

Please note that the “murder” element is not a central theme of this novel, which I did find a bit disappointing. Several sub-plots are woven into the story and I did feel that the narrative digressed often and lost momentum as it progressed. The author has touched upon several relevant themes in this novel and the author is brutally honest in her depiction of the unpleasantness that women have to deal with in terms of body image and how the same affects one's sense of self-worth. Despite the slow pace and digressions, the story is engaging and kept me invested as details from both Rika’s and Kajii’s lives were gradually revealed with several twists and surprises along the way. Though I didn’t enjoy the novel as much as I had hoped (which I believe was partly because I expected a bit more focus on the criminal aspect), I certainly found it to be an interesting read.

Many thanks to Ecco for the digital review copy via NetGalley. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This novel was published on April 16, 2024.

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[vic · Rating 5 out of 5]

yeah. that was really fucking good. reiko ur a lesbian tho :// honestly tho everything abt food and weight and how women dont know their own desires, like they dont live in their own bodies and have no idea how to work out what they want, even down to the food they want to eat - crazy shit, so fucking real, and im so glad realising im a lesbian saved me from it 💖

[Trevor Abbott · Rating 2 out of 5]

She thought she was butter, but she was only margarine. And she melted :/

[Jess · Rating 3 out of 5]

those chapters were too dang long

[K.J. Charles]

This was frankly weird. Ostensibly about a woman jailed for multiple murders and her relationship with a journalist. Actually about misogny in Japan, much of it internalised, and the pressure on women (be thin, pander endlessly to idle childish men, be good at your job, be a mother, be a great cook). Fundamentally about fat.

Actually that's it. It's full of lavish, glutinous descriptions of animal fat melting and coating and oozing. The heroine's weight is tracked throughout and her changing body rigorously monitored. The murderer's real crime seems to be that she's unashamedly fat (by the standards applied in this book at least: she seems to be just "not skinny").

The whole book has a major disordered eating feel to it, tbh, and wasn't a comfortable or enjoyable read though obv it wasn't meant to be. I wasn't quite sure what it was meant to be--it's not a thriller/detective book despite the promo. Peculiar.

(Also, for anyone following along with the recipes, you really cannot haul a turkey out of the oven and carve it at once. Let the damn thing rest.)

[Ceecee · Rating 3 out of 5]

LOST IN TRANSLATION?

Gourmet cook Manako Kajii is in a Tokyo detention centre, accused and convicted of murdering three lovers and extorting money from a succession of men, seducing them with her delicious cuisine. The case causes a sensation throughout Japan, with people riveted and passing many a judgement on Manako. She refuses visitors and definitely prison interviews until journalist Rika Machida of Shumei weekly writes and asks for a recipe for beef stew (beef bourguignon as it turns out) and a meeting and a gastronomic exchange of letters begins. Clever Rika, you might think for finding a way to connect using Manako’s love of food where others have failed. I’ll let you decide. Incidentally, there’s a shortage of butter and Manako is very keen on the glory of butter and she convinces Rika.

Well, this is definitely a game of two halves as I like to call it. I really like that it’s inspired by the true story of the Konkatsu killer (Kanae Kijima) and it is worth having a little read about that case as the narrative follows the true crime case. I really enjoy reading a novel based somewhere different from my usual settings and some cultural references are fascinating. There are good themes in the novel, especially that of female friendship, which the book is steeped in. You have the “relationship” between Manako and Rika, who have very different views on women and also between Rika and her best friend Reiko who has a much more traditional view of women. There are multiple examples of misogyny which makes me wince and there are characters who develop different obsessions. One of the things that drives the interest in the case in Japan is female body image, Manako is not thin, she is described by many as fat which is viewed as not culturally acceptable. Is this true of Japan today?? She is not beautiful, so those following her case wonder how she attracts the men in the first place. Yes, that’s hard to take, but it’s part of the plot so I set personal thoughts aside!

The characters are not especially likeable especially Manako Kajii, but that will be no surprise, with some of the things that come out of her mouth being simply awful. The interactions between Manako and Rika or some of the best parts of the book as they are intriguing, if not riveting conversations with plenty of manipulation going on, but initially you’re not sure by whom. This takes the storytelling in unexpected directions as Rika tries to get to Manako Kajii’s truth, and there are twists and turns along that route.

This is described as a novel of food and murder. I’d say it’s a novel about food with murders chucked in. Now, I like food and some of it (no, much of it) is mouthwatering, but there’s way too much, even for my foodie taste. This becomes a negative but the biggest one is that, probably because of the food, the pace is leisurely, almost snail pace slow as it meanders from one meal to the next. It’s way, way too long and in places it’s hard to read as it goes off on tangents and becomes confusing. It needs stamina and snacks to keep going. I’d also say it’s not really a thriller either, although it has a psychological thriller element to it.

No, let’s deal with the butter. It goes on and on about butter. Yes, really. This part of the novel goes way over my head and whatever the significance of it is, it totally passes me by!

Overall, well, it’s different and I do like variety. Do I enjoy it? I can’t in all honesty, say I do as it’s just too much like hard work although I do find the murder case of Manako gripping. However, if you want to read something out of your comfort zone then this could be for you.

With thanks to NetGalley and especially to 4th Estate for the much appreciated arc in return for an honest review.

[Charlie Gardiner · Rating 1 out of 5]

There’s not much to say about this book other than it was the most boring book I’ve read. Don’t be fooled by the blurb, there’s basically no serial killer aspect at all, it’s just about a woman cooking a lot and being called fat when she’s 5’2 and 59kg

[Megan · Rating 2 out of 5]

reading vlog: https://youtu.be/B3t-xN1vC1w

bestie this book could've been half as long!! just not for me unfortunately

[Alwynne · Rating 3 out of 5]

Asako Yuzuki’s Butter builds on the case of infamous “Konkatsu Killer” Kanae Kijima known for the lavish tastes, particularly love of gourmet food – recorded via her recipe blog – that led to the deaths of a series of “sugar daddies” funding her extravagant lifestyle, and resulted in a death sentence for Kanae Kijima. But tellingly, the public and media outcry surrounding Kanae Kijima didn’t centre on her proposed punishment and the disproportionate number of Japanese women awarded the death penalty, or on her crimes, but on Kanae Kijima’s failure to fulfil mainstream, Japanese ideals of beauty. How a woman who, by Japanese standards, was “grossly” overweight attracted so many men became the burning question. A question central to Yuzuki’s novel, sparking a wider examination of issues around women, food, and femininity. An inventive take on Japanese “gastro” fiction a tradition running from Tanizaki’s “The Gourmet Club” to Yoshimoto’s Kitchen to Tawada’s Sugar Time and beyond. Yuzuki apparently studied aspects of culinary arts as background research.

Yuzuki’s primary narrator is Tokyo-based, journalist Rika Machida who’s investigating Manako Kajii, a convicted killer awaiting retrial in an attempt to overturn a life sentence. Rika’s intent on a scoop, an interview with the notoriously reclusive Kajii, as well as an opportunity to assess whether Kajii is actually the innocent victim of a misogynistic system. Like Kajii, Rika is relatively isolated, her closest friend is Reiko who’s recently abandoned her career to embrace married life in suburbia. But, unlike Kajii, Rika rigorously polices her body, strictly maintaining her 50kg weight. Rika has so expertly internalised the idea that appearance is essential to success she no longer recognises hunger. But after she establishes an ongoing bond with Kajii, Kajii’s influence, particularly her obsession with cooking and luxury foods, reawakens Rika’s appetite in unexpected ways, leading to a battle between Kajii and Reiko for Rika’s loyalties.

Yusuki’s complex, sometimes convoluted, narrative takes on a number of social and cultural issues, stemming from concerns over the ways in which Japanese women’s emotional and domestic labour serves to sustain men at women’s expense. A world in which women are expected to feed and nurture men but literally, and metaphorically, starve themselves – at one point Reiko observes that the average Japanese woman now routinely consumes fewer daily calories than women post-WW2, a period in Japan notorious for famine and mass starvation. For women indulgence in food is regarded as gluttony, signifying a lack of overall self-control, something Rika’s colleagues and boyfriend don’t hesitate to point out as her changing body gradually begins to take up more than the socially-desired space. So that, at least at first, Kajii is presented as a potential, feminist icon, someone vilified for rejecting conventional models of femininity and her refusal to deny her own desires - unlike ambitious but self-effacing Rika. Although Rika too is represented as sneakily challenging, even queering, gender expectations, her “boyishness” earned her the title “prince” at her all-girls’ school, and is still a source of fascination for Reiko. Although by framing Rika’s gender nonconformity via tropes associated with Class S stories, Yuzuki shuts down many of the possibilities that Rika’s “queerness” might open up - Yuzuki’s emphasis is on heterosexuality here. Similarly, the more radical outcomes opened up by Kajii’s character are carefully reined in as Yuzuki’s story unfolds.

I thought Yuzuki’s book was a worthwhile read overall, it offers some interesting insights into Japanese society, poses some intriguing questions and contains numerous compelling scenes. But, at the same time, I found her underlying arguments muddled, frustratingly contradictory and compromised. I enjoyed the referencing of writers like Kawabata; and Yuzuki’s various uses of butter as a means to expose wider social and cultural issues were often productive, and entertaining, although its impact diminished as her story progressed. Yuzuki’s blurring of genre boundaries had a J-drama feel at times, her fiction’s been widely adapted for television. She combines her form of “gastro-lit” with Japanese crime-writing conventions, particularly in its socially-aware, post-WW2 phase, which means stretches of her novel may be too dry or overly detailed for some readers. For me, an improbable twist, followed by a move towards more melodramatic, psychological crime served up with a generous helping of life lessons was far more of a problem – especially the way in which it appeared to reinstate the eccentric or non-conforming as dangerously “other”. Translated by Polly Barton.

Thanks to Netgalley and publisher 4th Estate for an ARC

Rating: 3 to 3.5

[Christy fictional_traits · Rating 4 out of 5]

'What's wrong with coating barren, flavourless reality in oodles of melted butter and seasoning it with condiments and spices'.

Inspired by real life events, ‘Butter' is a dense, complex, and challenging story that meanders, as its main protagonist, Rika, ponders convicted serial killer, Kajii's psychology, 'To drink in a person in their entirety, to chew them up until there was nothing left of them - that was Kajii's mode of communication'. In trying to comprehend Kajii's murderous motives, Rika is swept up by Kajii's delectable debauchery - so diametrically opposed to the traditional expectations of a Japanese woman - so contrary to what Rika has always strived to be within the man's world she works in, 'Japanese women are required to be self-denying, hard-working and ascetic...'. The more Rika explores how Kajii lived prior to her conviction, the more she transforms herself - both literally and figuratively, 'In principle, all women should give themselves permission to demand good treatment, but the world has made doing so profoundly difficult'.

'Butter' is a marathon, not a sprint, to read. The story takes many twists and turns before revealing its truth. It is as much of a personal journey of discovery as it is a journalistic investigation. This book will appeal to readers who enjoy a considered read and can take the time to savour the words and digest their meaning. I would have appreciated some end notes from the author though, to better understand how the real-life story inspired this one.

'Your problem is you've decided that butter is bad without even understanding what it tastes like'.

[Anna Bartłomiejczyk · Rating 4 out of 5]

Był taki moment w mediach społecznościowych, że gdzie bym się nie obróciła, wszyscy czytali Masło. Żółta, soczysta okładka atakowała mnie z każdej strony. No więc teraz, kiedy mam już lekturę książki za sobą (skończyłam jakieś dobre kilka minut temu i od razu usiadłam do pisania), mogę coś o niej powiedzieć. A wydaje mi się, że jest o czym.

Przede wszystkim Masło nie jest tym, czym może się wydawać. W europejskich kręgach opis fabuły jak ten Masła sugeruje, że opowieść skupiona będzie przede wszystkim na zbrodni, oskarżonej i naszej głównej bohaterce, która w roli dziennikarki, wraca do sprawy potencjalnego morderstwa trzech mężczyzn. Wyobrażamy sobie, że ma być to prawdopodobnie przyczynek do jakiegoś komentarza społecznego.

No i nic z tego. To powieść, która rzeczywiście, komentuje współczesną Japonię, ale w sposób całkowicie odmienny, od tego, którego chyba się spodziewamy.

Masło to powieść kobiecocentryczna. Na pierwszym planie mamy niemal same kobiety i problemy, z którymi mierzą się na co dzień. Autorka bada wiele wątków związanych z współczesnym feminizmem - tego, jak kobiety patrzą na siebie wzajemnie, jak patriarchat wyciska mężczyzn niczym cytryny. Mowa jest również o kanonach piękna, które bezwzględnie uderzają w nasze zdrowie i dobre samopoczucie. Zbrodnia i potencjalna zbrodniarka zostają gdzieś w tle. Ich zadanie szybko się kończy, bowiem to postać oskarżonej ma po prostu refrenicznie wracać do fabuły, by napędzać jej kolejne wątki, a sama zbrodnia... Ona jest tu punktem wyjściowym do wątku, który autorkę interesuje chyba najbardziej, czyli tego, co tak naprawdę nas niszczy, co niweluje nasze plany, co nas powoli zabija.

To tak z grubsza o tym jest ta książka.

[Repellent Boy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rika Machida trabaja en la redacción de una revista semanal. Pese a ser la única mujer, y enfrentarse diariamente a lo que conlleva serlo en un entorno machista donde todos son hombres, Rika ha conseguido ganarse el reconocimiento de todos al obtener siempre grandes exclusivas. Un día se propone conseguir la entrevista que nadie ha logrado hasta la fecha, la de la enigmática Manako Kajii. Condenada a cadena perpetua por seducir y asesinar a tres hombres para luego quedarse con su dinero, Manako se niega a hablar con nadie que no sea su abogado. Sin embargo, Rika consigue despertar curiosidad en ella a través de la gran afición de la reclusa: la cocina. La historia girará en torno a los continuos encuentros entre estas dos mujeres.

Creo que lo primero que choca al empezar a leer “La gula”(o “Mantequilla”, que es su nombre original), es que no es un thriller al uso. De hecho, pese a que tiene ciertos elementos de suspense, yo no lo catalogaría como tal. Por eso, ante todo, animo a los que no lean thriller, a que lean esta obra, porque es espectacular y no se van a encontrar una novela de suspense, y a los que estén esperando encontrar un thriller vertiginoso, que aquí no lo van a encontrar. Eso sí, van a encontrar más, mucho más.

Mientras leía “La gula” tenía la sensación de que es ese tipo de historias de las que siempre se puede seguir rascando, sobre la que siempre se puede reflexionar un poquito más, y que el momento en que las leas, las veces que lo hagas o como sea la persona que lo hace, puede despertar muy diferentes sensaciones y pensamientos. Asako Yuzuki nos hace una radiografía del Japón moderno, una crítica constante a todas sus normas de conducta no escritas, muy arraigadas en la sociedad, y que se extienden continuamente entre sus miembros. A través de sus personajes, la autora nos muestra como todas estas actuaciones limitan (¡oh, sorpresa!) especialmente la vida de las mujeres.

Hay una crítica brutal a como las personas reciben el aspecto físico de los demás, y como sacan conclusiones respecto a la personalidad y forma de ser de los demás en función de su imagen. Uno de los principales temas que trata la novela es el peso, y como solo estar delgada (o muy delgada) es lo aceptado socialmente para la mujer. Tanto es así, que Manako despierta mucha curiosidad en la sociedad, y no tanto por sus crímenes, si no porque la gente se cuestiona como fue posible que sedujera a hombres estando gorda. El hecho de engordar para una mujer puede hacerle perder ese leve estatus, que por otra parte, tanto le cuesta ganar.

Nuestra protagonista desarrolla una especie de obsesión por Manako Kajii y esto lleva a Rika a emular todos los platos que la supuesta criminal elaboraba y compartía luego en su blog. Conforme va gananado peso, Rika empieza a sufrir una increíble cantidad de agresiones verbales, hasta tal punto que al defenderse de su propia pareja que le reclama que haya engordado, expresándole que él también lo ha hecho, este contesta “no es lo mismo un gordo que una gorda”. Parece algo absurdo, nimio, pero es la mejor prueba de como funciona la sociedad, cualquier sociedad, no solo la nipona.

Y todo esto lleva al otro “gran” tema de la historia, la comida. Nunca me pasó que un libro me despertara tantas ganas de comer, e incluso siendo vegetariano, cualquier plato, fuera o no vegetariano, despertaba en mí un apetito intenso y el deseo de copiar todas esas recetas. Las protagonistas se relacionan a través de la comida, y estas escenas son narradas con tal nivel de erotismo, que a veces parecía que estuvieras presenciando una escena de sexo y no que la protagonista se estuviera comiendo un tazón de arroz con mantequilla y soja. Nunca me había flipado tanto leer sobre recetas. Simplemente increíble.

Uno de los personajes más interesantes de la historia es la amiga de Rika, Reiko, una mujer que acaba de dejar su trabajo para dedicarse a ser ama de casa, con el objetivo de tener un hijo. Creo que a través de ella vemos otra de las grandes presiones que sufre la mujer, el deber de tener hijos como única manera de estar completa, renunciando al trabajo por ese deber superior. Creo que Reiko, pese a verse sometida a esta presión, se aleja bastante del canon tan estrecho al que se ven sometidas las mujeres en el país. Realmente todos los personajes femeninos de "La gula" escapan como pueden de ese patrón y eso hace que la historia sea muy rica en contrastes y contradicciones en la forma de pensar de los propios personajes. A veces, un mismo personaje podía decir algún comentario con tintes claramente feministas y luego tener otro bastante anticuado. Y esto refuerza esa sensación de un canon tan imposible de alcanzar, que por mucho que hagas, siempre serás criticada. Ya sea por gorda, por vieja, por no tener hijos, por ser muy simpática, por no serlo lo suficiente, siempre hay una ridícula vara de medir para juzgar y coartar la libertad de las mujeres.

Una cosa que me gusta del libro es que no tiene que se redundante en su mensaje para que entiendas de lo que habla, simplemente te va mostrando la sociedad a través de sus personajes, las situaciones que estos sufren y las reflexiones a las que llegan. No cierra herméticamente los temas que trata, y da pie a otras interpretaciones sobre lo que sucede. Por ejemplo, aunque nunca se deja claro, da la impresión de que la novela habla a ratos de ser lesbiana, en un país y en un contexto, donde el machismo al que las mujeres son sometidas por los hombres y, lamentablemente, por otras mujeres, ni siquiera permite que la opción de simplemente poder serlo exista. Ese pensamiento no pasa siquiera por sus cabezas adoctrinadas para ser la perfecta ama de casa que cuida y atiende a su marido.

Y esto me lleva a otro tema que la novela expresa muy bien, y que hace que me lleven los demonios: la infantilización del hombre. Estos no buscan a una mujer, buscan a una madre, que les cuide, les haga la casa y la comida, y un masajito después de trabajar, como si un hombre sin una mujer a su lado, no puediera sobrevivir y cayera en desgracia. Esta novela explora como la sociedad culpa a la mujer por el fracaso o el descuido del hombre sobre sí mismo, y la criminaliza por no seguir aguantándolo, haga este lo que le haga, porque al abandonarlo él solo no podrá salir adelante. Esto es una cosa que pasa en Japón, pero también en el resto del mundo. En mayor o menor medida, todos hemos visto esto en nuestra propia casa.

En fin, que este libro da para debatir catorce vidas, me dejo muchas cosas por mencionar, pero tampoco quiero desvelarlo todo. Es una historia lenta, centrada en sus personajes y sobre como se relacionan entre ellos en una sociedad donde la norma es ocultar las emociones. Y por supuesto, es un libro que hay que leer con los cinco sentidos, absorbiendo todos sus matices, sus sabores y sus olores. Ojalá podamos conseguir más obras de Asako Yuzuki, porque está es un enorme y rotundo sí.

[Emma.catherine · Rating 5 out of 5]

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“All women should become goddesses.”

I absolutely love Japanese books; whether they have been translated or a Japanese author has written in English. I find everything about their culture and way of life fascinating. Furthermore, this book in particular was a fascinating insight into the Japanese culture in relation to women and food.

It was initially a slow buddy read, that turned into me reading myself as my buddy was drowned in work. Because of that I have had plenty of time to stew over it and gather my thoughts. Which for such a complex and beautiful, intricately written book is almost a necessity. There is so much to take in, I feel like reading it all at once, much of the finer details would be missed.

From the start it was clear this was a beautiful exploration of food and friendship. It really highlighted for me was how much a ritual the Japanese make regarding their food. They don’t just throw things together or skimp on ingredients, they cherish and nurture the experience. Abundance is key. Butter never margarine.

My favourite quote of this unique book is: “All you need to do is to eat as much of whatever it is you most desire at any given moment. Listen carefully to your heart and your body. Never eat anything you don’t want to. When you take the decision to live that way, both your mind and your body will commence their transformation.”

Eating what you want when you want it makes your senses come alive.

When journalist Rika pursues accused serial killer Manako Kajii for an exclusive interview, her life changes. Through the exploration of the recipes and restaurants used by the Gourmet cook Manako Kajii, Rika Machida tries to understand her motivation behind the convicted murderers she has been charged with. Rita regularly visits Kajii in the Detention Centre and very quickly they form a unique bond of what starts out as friendship but slowly morphs into a case of manipulation by Kajii. In the beginning of their relationship, Rita begins to admire and obsesses over Manko’s indulgent lifestyle.

Overtime, as Rika emulates Kajii’s lifestyle she finds herself gaining weight at a consistent rate. The reactions of Rika's friends, family and work colleagues to the change in Rika is most fascinating and clearly portrays the ideals that women have to hold themselves to; of which are unattainable and damaging. A dark cloud of what appears to be fat-shaming haunts the characters throughout the book however, I personally see it as the opposite. I felt, personally, like the author Asako Yuzuki was trying to call out the fat shaming culture and in turn make the reader aware of these Japanese beauty ideals.

Yuzuki also very cleverly describes food and effortlessly weaves in recipes, and their preparation and consumption in society, adding an extra dimension to the narrative. Every sentence is as carefully crafted as the dishes Rika makes.

Overtime, Manako threatens Rika’s career however, Rika also learns a way to satiate herself with friendships and meaningful connections, as well as food: “You need to place like that, don’t you? Everyone does. Life is hard when you don’t have a place where you feel safe…”.

I really enjoyed reading this incredibly compelling and highly intelligent piece of work. Yuzuki wrote so very clearly about a multitude of topics from cultural gender roles to the most intricate and exquisite recipes. The characters she created all highlighted a different aspect to the book and all served a purpose in the plot. Overtime, I felted bonded to the characters and by the end when they are all sitting around together, I wanted to join in with this complex group of individuals.

Highly recommend this incredible piece of cultural insight 🧈

[Elena · Rating 4 out of 5]

Butter ist wie überbackener Käse: Sie macht einfach jedes Gericht besser. Das hat die Serienmörderin Manako Kajii schnell erkannt. Mit ihren buttrigen Speisen hat sie reihenweise ältere Männer in ihren Bann geschlagen - und am Ende umgebracht, so mutmaßt man zumindest. Die junge tokioer Journalistin Rika beginnt, im Fall Kajii zu recherchieren und wird als Einzige zu ihr vorgelassen. Manako Kajii hat aber eine Bedingung: Sie wird mit Rika ausschließlich über ihre Kochkünste sprechen. Schnell findet sich die Journalistin im Bann der Mordverdächtigen wieder und droht, sich in deren Fängen zu verlieren.

"Butter" von Asako Yuzuki, aus dem Japanischen übersetzt von Ursula Gräfe, ist eine spannende Mischung aus kriminologischen Elementen, Gesellschaftskritik und vielen kulinarischen Genussmomenten, die mir beim Lesen dauerhaft das Wasser im Mund zusammenlaufen ließen. Es geht viel um Essen, aber auch darum, mit welchen unmöglichen Erwartungen weiblich gelesene Personen in patriarchalen Gesellschaften permanent konfrontiert werden.

Rika entdeckt im Laufe des Romans ihren Appetit und ihre Leidenschaft für das Essen, was ihr Aussehen von einer zierlichen, androgynen Erscheinung in eine kurvige Form wandeln lässt. Die Lesenden erleben, wie das Umfeld der Journalistin auf ihre Figur vor allem mit Fatshaming reagiert - was mir ob der Parallelen zur Realität sehr nahe gegangen ist. Auch der Kampf ihrer besten Freundin mit der Kinderlosigkeit oder der Verlust der sehr gemochten Stelle einer Arbeitskollegin Rikas durch ihre Mutterschaft haben ein sehr lebensnahes Bild einer von patriarchalen Strukturen durchzogenen Gesellschaft wiedergegeben.

Die Kombination aus Rezeptschilderungen und gesellschaftskritischen Elementen hat mit den Recherchen von Rika zum Fall Kajii nochmals eine ganz besondere Facette bekommen - und dem Roman die nötige Dynamik und Dramatik gegeben. Letztlich konnte ich "Butter" zwischenzeitlich kaum noch beiseite legen. Ein Roman, der trotz all der schweren Themen sehr gut unterhält - nur sollte man ihn definitiv nicht hungrig lesen! Von mir gibt es eine Empfehlung.

[The Belladonna · Rating 3 out of 5]

"I don't want friends. I don't need friends. I'm only interested in having worshippers."

It's buttah, baby.

Inspired by the true story of Japanese serial killer Kanae Kijima, aka The Konkatsu Killer, who portrayed herself as an accomplished cook. Dubbed “Konkatsu Killer” by the media for all the konkatsu (marriage-hunting) sites she used to lure men. She seduced them, drained their money, and staged their deaths as suicides. She was convicted of poisoning three men and suspected of poisoning four more. Kanae Kijima is currently incarcerated in the Tokyo Detention House, sitting on death row. Butter is an evocative statement to the social stigma of female obesity, misogyny, obsession, and the power of food.

[Willow Heath]

Butter is a deceptively deep novel. On the surface, it presents itself as a thriller, but its darker waters hide provoking themes of isolation, gender roles, societal expectations, body image, and autonomy. Our protagonist, Rika, is a thirty-something journalist who is attempting to get an exclusive interview with a woman who is on trial for the murder of three men—all former lovers.

My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/japanese-lite...

[Lisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I baked a brioche for the first time in my life because of this book. And butter cookies. And seeded crisp bread. And Swedish crackers.

I ate so much butter. French butter, cold, then melting in the tropical heat.

In baking the brioche, I breathed in the scent of the batter in the first proof, and then the second proof. “Darling, smell how good my hands smell!” I exclaimed to my partner. They smelled of butter.

Once the brioche was fully baked, I brought it down into the living room to enjoy the scent while it cooled.

I have literally never baked a loaf of bread in my life. It’s been probably four years since I baked a thing, in fact.

Let this be a warning to you.